 | The Queene of Corinth |  |
Scæna Quarta.
Enter Crates and Conon.Cra.
Conon you are welcome home, yee are wondrous welcome,
Is this your first arrivall?
Con.
Sir, but now
I reacht the Towne.
Cra.
Ye'ar once more welcome then.
Con.
I thanke ye noble Sir.
Cra.
Pray ye do me the honour
To make my poore house first—
Con.
Pray Sir excuse me,
I have not seene mine owne yet; nor made happy
These longing eyes with those I love there: what's this a Taverne?
Cra.
It seemes so by the outside.
Con.
Step in here then,
And since it offers it selfe so freely to us,
A place made only for liberall entertainment,
Let's seeke no further but make use of this,
And after the Greek fashion, to our friends
Crown a round cup or two.
Enter Vintner and drawer.
Cra.
Your pleasure Sir.
Drawers, who waits within?
Draw.
Anon, anon Sir.
Vint.
Look into the Lilly-pot: why Mark there;
You are welcome Gentlemen; heartily welcome
My noble friend.
Cra.
Let's have good Wine mine Host,
And a fine private roome.
Vint.
Will ye be there Sir?
What is't you'l drink? ile draw your Wine my selfe:
Quissions ye knaves: why when?
Enter Drawer with Quissiions.
Dra.
Anon, anon Sir.
Vint.
Chios, or Lebos, Greek?
Cra.
Your best and neatest.
Vint.
Ile draw ye that shall dance.
Cra.
Away, be quick then.
Exit Vintner.
Con.
How does your Brother Sir, my noble friend
The good Euphanes? in all my course of travell
I met not with a Gentleman so furnish'd
In gentlenesse and courtesie; beleeve Sir,
So many friendly Offices I receiv'd from him,
So great, and timely, and enjoy'd his company
In such an open and a liberall sweetnesse,
That when I dare forget him—
Cra.
He's in good health Sir,
But you will finde him a much alter'd man,
Growne a great Courtier Sir.
Con.
He's worthy of it.
Cra.
A man drawne up, that leaves no print behind him
Of what he was: those goodnesses you speake of
That have been in him, those that you call freedomes,
Societies, and sweetnesse, looke for now Sir,
You'le finde no shadowes of them left, no sound,
The very Ayre he has liv'd in alter'd: now behold him,
And you shall see a thing walk by, looke big upon ye,
And cry for place; I am the Queenes, give roome there:
If you bow low, may be he'l touch the Bonnet,
Or fling a forced smile at ye for a favour.
Con.
He is your brother Sir.
Cra.
These formes put off,
Which travell, and Court Holy-water sprinkle on him,
I dare accept, and know him: you'l think it strange Sir,
That even to me, to me his naturall Brother,
And one by birth he owes a little honour too—
Enter Vintner with Wine.
(But that's all one) come give me some Wine, mine Host,
Here's to your faire returne.
Con.
I wonder at it,
But sure he has found a nature not worth owning
In this way; else I know he is tender carried.
I thank ye Sir: and now durst I presume
For all you tell me of these alterations,
And stops in his sweet nature, which till I finde so,
I have known him now so long, & look'd so through him,
You must give me leave to be a little faithlesse:
I say for all these, if you please to venter
Ile lay the Wine we drink, let me send for him
(Even I that am the poorest of his fellowship)
But by a Boy oth' house too, let him have businesse,
Let him attend the Queene, nay let his Mistris
Hold him betwixt her armes, he shall come to me,
And shall drink with me too; love me, and heartily,
Like a true honest man bid me welcome home.
I am confident.
Cra.
You will lose.
Con.
You'l stand toth' wager?
Cra.
With all my heart.
Con.
Go Boy, and tell Euphanes.
Boy.
He's now gone up the street Sir,
With a great traine of Gallants.
Cra.
What think you now Sir?
Con.
Go, and overtake him,
Commend my love unto him: my name is Conon,
Tell him I am new arriv'd, and where I am,
And would request to see him presently:
Ye see I use old dudgen phrase to draw him.
9
Ile hang and quarter when you draw him hether.
Con.
Away Boy.
Boy.
I am gone Sir.
Exit.
Con.
Here's to you now,
And you shall finde his travell has not stopt him
As you suppose, nor alter'd any freedome,
But made him far more cleare and excellent;
It drawes the grosnesse off the understanding,
And renders active and industrious spirits:
He that knowes most mens manners, must of necessity
Best know his owne, and mend those by example:
'Tis a dull thing to travell like a Mill-horse,
Still in the place he was borne in, lam'd and blinded;
Living at home is like it: pure and strong spirits
That like the Fire still covet to fly upward,
And to give fire as well as take it; cas'd up, and mewd here
I meane at home, like lusty metled Horses,
Onely ty'd up in Stables, to please their Masters,
Beat out their fiery lives in their owne Litters,
Why doe not you travell Sir?
Cra.
I have no beliefe in't
I see so many strange things, halfe unhatcht, to
Returne, those that went out men, and good men,
They looke like potch'd Eggs with the soules suckt out,
Empty and full of wind: all their affections
Are bak'd in Rye crust, to hold carriage
From this good Towne toth' other: and when they are open'd,
They are so ill cooked and mouldy—
Con.
Ye are pleasant.
Cra.
Ile shew ye a pack of these: I have 'em for ye,
That have been long in travell too.
Con.
Please you Sir.
Cra.
You know the Merchants walk, Boy?
2 Boy.
Very well.
Cra.
And you remember those Gentlemen were here
The other day with me?
2 Boy.
Yes.
Cra.
Then go thither,
For there I am sure they are, pray 'em come hither,
(And use my name) I would be glad to see 'em.
Enter 1 Boy.
1 Boy.
Your Brother's comming in Sir.
Vint.
Odds my passion,
Out with the Plate ye knaves: bring the new Quishions,
And wash those Glasses I set by for high dayes,
Perfume the roomes along, why Sirrah.
1 Boy.
Here Sir.
Vint.
Bid my Wife make her selfe ready handsomely,
And put on her best Apron: it may be
The noble Gentleman will looke upon her.
Enter Euphanes and two Gentlemen.
Euph.
Where is he Boy?
Vint.
Your worship's heartily welcome,
It joyes my very heart to see ye here Sir.
The Gentleman that sent for your Honour—
Euph.
O good mine Host.
Vint.
To my poor homely house, and't like your honor.
Euph.
I thank thine honour good mine Host, where is he?
Con.
What think ye now? my best Euphanes.
Euph.
Conon, welcome my friend, my noble friend how is it?
Are you in safety come, in health?
Con.
All health, all safety,
Riches, and all that makes content and happinesse
Now I am here I have: how have you far'd Sir?
Euph.
Well, I thank Heaven, and never nearer friend
To catch at great occasion.
Con.
Indeed I joy in't.
Euph.
Nor am I for my selfe borne in these fortunes,
In truth I love my friends.
Con.
You were noble ever.
Cra.
I thought you had not knowne me.
Euph.
Yes, ye are my Brother,
My elder Brother too, would your affections
Were able but to aske that love I owe to ye,
And as I give, preserve it: here friend Conon,
To your faire welcome home.
Con.
Deare Sir, I thank ye,
Fill it toth' brim, Boy: Crates.
Cra.
Ile pledge you,
But for that glorious Comet lately fired.
Con.
Fie, fie Sir, fie.
Euph.
Nay, let him take his freedomes,
He stirs not me I vow to ye; much lesse staines me.
Cra.
Sir, I cannot talke with that neat travelling tongue.
Con.
As I live, he has the worst beleefe in men abroad.
Enter the 2. Boy.
I am glad I am come home.
2 Boy.
Here are the Gentlemen.
Cra.
O let 'em enter: now you that trust in travell,
And make sharp Beards, and little Breeches Deities,
You that inhaunce the daily price of Tooth-picks,
And hold there is no homebred hapinesse,
Behold a modell of your minds and actions.
Euph.
Though this be envious, yet done ith' way of mirth,
I am content to thank ye for't.
Con.
'Tis well yet.
Cra.
Let the Maske enter.
Enter Onos, his Unckle and Tutor.
Onos.
A pretty Taverne 'faith, of a fine structure.
Unc.
Beare your selfe like a Gentleman, here's six pence,
And be sure you breake no Glasses.
Tut.
Harke ye Pupill,
Go as I taught you, hang more upon your hams,
And put your knees out bent: there, yet a little:
Now I beseech ye, be not so improvident
To forget your travelling pace, 'tis a maine posture,
And to all unayr'd Gentlemen will betray you:
Play with your Pisa Beard: why, where's your brush Pupil?
He must have a Brush Sir.
Unc.
More charge yet?
Tut.
Here, take mine,
These elements of travell he must not want Sir.
Vnc.
Ma' foy, he has had some nineteene pence in elements,
What would you more?
Tut.
Durus me hercle pater.
Con.
What Mounsieur Onos, the very pump of travell,
Sir, as I live you have done me the greatest kindnesse,
O my faire Sir, Lampree, the carefull Unckle
To this young hopefull issue; Mounsieur Tutor too,
The father to his minde; Come, come, let's hug Boyes,
Why what a bunch of travell doe I embrace now,
Me thinkes I put a Girdle about Europe;
How has the Boy profited?
Vnc.
He has enough Sir,
If his too fiery mettle doe not mar it.
Con.
Is he not thrifty yet?
Tut.
That's all his fault,
Too bounteous minded being under age too,
A great consumer of his stock in Pippins,
Had ever a hot stomack.
Con.
Come hither Onos,
Will you love me for this fine Apple?
Onos.
We.
Con.
And will ye be rul'd by me sometimes?
Onos.
'Faith I will.
Con.
That's a good Boy.
10
Pray give not the childe so much fruit,
He's of a raw Complexion.
Euph.
You Mounsieur hard egge,
Do you remember me? Doe you remember
When you and your Consort travell'd through Hungary?
Con.
He's in that circuit still.
Euph.
Do you remember
The cantell of immortall Cheese ye carried with ye,
The halfe cold Cabbedge, in a leather Sachell,
And those invincible Eggs that would lye in your bowells
A fortnight together, and then turne to bedstaves;
Your sowre milk that would choak an Irish man,
And bread was bak'd in Cæsars time for the Army?
Con.
Providence, providence.
Tut.
The soule of travell.
Euph.
Can the Boy speak yet?
Tut.
Yes, and as fine a Gentleman,
I thanke my able knowledge, he has arriv'd at,
Only a little sparing of his Language,
Which every man of observation—
Unc.
And of as many tongues.
Tut.
Pray be content Sir,
You know you are for the bodily part, the Purse,
I for the magazine, the minde.
Euph.
Come hither springall.
On.
That in the Almain Tongue signifies a Gentleman.
Euph.
What think you of the formes of Italy or Spain?
Onos.
I love mine owne Country Pippin.
Tut.
Nobly answer'd,
Borne for his Country first.
Euph.
A great Philosopher:
What Horses do you prefer?
Onos.
The White horse Sir,
There where I lye; honest and a just beast,
Tut.
O Caput lepidum: a Childe to say this,
Are these figures for the mouthes of Infants?
Con.
Onos, what wenches?
Come, tell me true.
On.
I cannot speake without booke.
Con.
When shall we have one, ha?
On.
Steale me from mine Unckle,
For looke you, I am broke out horribly
For want of fleshly Phisick: they say I am too yong,
And that 'twill spoyle my growth but could you help me?
Con.
Meet me to morrow man, no more.
Euph.
You thinke now
Ye have open'd such a shame to me of travell,
By shewing these thin Cubbs: ye have honour'd us
Against your will, proclam'd us excellent:
Three Frailes of Sprats carried from Mart, to Mart,
Are as much meat as these, to more use travell'd;
A bunch of bloted fooles: me thinkes your judgement
Should looke abroad sometimes without your envie.
Cra.
Such are most of you: so I take my leave,
And when you finde your womens favour faile,
'Tis ten to one you'l know your selfe, and seeke me
Upon a better Muster of your manners.
Con.
This is not hansome Sir.
Euph.
Pray take your pleasure,
You wound the wind as much—
Cra.
Come you with me,
I have businesse for you presently: there's for your Wine,
I must confesse I lost it.
On.
Shall I steale to ye
And shall we see the Wench?
Con.
A dainty one.
On.
And have a dish of Pippins?
Con.
What a peck man.
Tut.
Will you wait Sir.
Con.
Pray let's meet oftner Gentlemen,
I would not lose ye.
Tut.
O sweet Sir.
Con.
Do you thinke I would,
Such noted men as you?
Onos, Unc., Tut.
We are your Servants.
Exeunt.
Euph.
That thing they would keep in everlasting nonage,
My Brother for his owne ends has thrust on
Upon my Mistris, 'tis true, he shall be rich
If ever he can get that Rogue his Unckle
To let him be of yeares to come to inherit it,
Now what the maine drift is—
Con.
Say ye so? no more words,
Ile keepe him company till he be of yeares,
Though it be a hundred yeares, but ile discover it;
And ten to one ile crosse it too.
Euph.
You are honest,
And I shall study still your love: farewell Sir,
For these few houres I must desire your pardon,
I have businesse of importance: once a day
At least I hope you'l see me: I must see you else:
So, once more ye are welcome.
Con.
All my thankes Sir,
And when I leave to love you, life go from me.
Exeunt.
| The Queene of Corinth | |